


For the Guest True Known

by Ash_and_Ember



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss
Genre: kkc gift exchange 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_and_Ember/pseuds/Ash_and_Ember
Summary: it's like slow regard. there's no plot here, only Auri
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	For the Guest True Known

Auri heard the music and grinned. She didn’t always know when he would come, but the surprise of it was as sweet as honey. He always brought music as a gift; it would be improper for her not to have a gift for him. Auri knew the ways of the world. She knew to be prepared. 

There were three ways out of Mantle. There was a hallway, a doorway, and a door. The door was not for her. Snatching up Foxen, Auri nearly dashed through the doorway. But no, that wasn’t right. She set Foxen down on his table, giving him a quick kiss. She washed her hands and face. Her perfect bar of soap smelled like sunlight and springtime. She smiled. Kvothe was as patient as a stone. He was beginning to understand the ways of the world. He would wait for her to do things properly. 

Auri picked up Foxen again. She took a basket from the shelf above the fireplace, and moved the holly bottle to the empty space. There. Not so lonely a space now. 

There were three ways out of Mantle. There was a hallway, a doorway, and a door. The door was not for her. Moving at a proper pace, she went down the hallway. She made her way through Candlebear, then into Vaults. Auri smiled. This was a place for motion. Mobility. Movement. 

Taking a moment for indulgence, Auri spun once in a tight circle. Foxen’s light sent shadows dancing madly on the walls. She took three steps back. She stood poised for half a breath, regal as a queen. Auri ran, hair streaming behind her. She jumped the first fissure gracefully as one of the Fae. The second, as gently as a windblown leaf. The third, as joyfully as a girl in her perfect place. 

The dark of Pickering was familiar. Its close tunnels were the perfect counterpoint to the brash openness of Vaults. The air was still and cool. Auri smiled at the familiar copper pipe running along the wall like an old friend. 

She emerged from Pickering into Trees. Her heart sank when she saw how little food she had on the shelves. Auri had to give Kvothe a proper meal. No matter. She would make do. She picked up a folded cloth from one of the shelves and placed it in her basket. She placed the end of a loaf of bread at the center of the basket. Three figs nestled around it. The water rushing through the well kept cold butter, but it was too prickly for eating. There was a piece of cheese there too. Auri was saving it for a special occasion. Kvothe coming to visit was a special occasion. And it would go so nicely with the bread. 

The cheese was aware of its proper place. It was shameful how eager it was to be in the basket with the bread. Auri eyed the butter. No, it still too full of knives and malice to balance out the bold bread. Perhaps the answer lay somewhere else. 

Her basket cradled in one arm, and Foxen in the other, Auri made her way back through Pickering. It would be too precarious to go through Vaults like this. She was too laden down to fly. It had to be Scaperling. 

The walls were damp. Dark. Dank. They menaced Foxen’s light, and even dampened the bold bread a bit. Auri moved slowly, with perfect care. She dared not touch the walls, but she watched them. 

She shivered when she made it through. The Yellow Twelve welcomed her with the tangle of pipes and deep pool of water. Somewhere above, a bird sang. The solid rightness of this place settled over Auri. She settled herself. Foxen glowed encouragingly. 

The journey to Bakery passed pleasantly. Auri knew what she needed to get. The knowledge sat in her chest like a flame. It burned like her name on the best days. 

There was a discontented crock of tea nestled in the warm shelves. It had come from a long way away, probably southern Modeg. The foothills of the Stormwal mountains were the perfect climate for rich black tea. The plants were grown in the mountains, the clay jar shaped in a northern Modegan city. The two of them had come together, then traveled across the Great Stone Road. Of course it wouldn’t be content to sit in Bakery. It would be the perfect thing to give to a boy with stars in his eyes, and the road in his heart. 

And it would balance out the contents of her basket. The tea was full of adventure, and the clay knew the slow turning of the earth. It would balance the eagerness of the bread and cheese. Auri carefully arranged her food and gift. Everything was as it should be. 

Kvothe’s music drifted through the air, down through the Underthing, along the pipes, to reach Auri even here in Bakery. She smiled. It was time to go.


End file.
